Personal Space
by She Walks With Grace
Summary: Dean wasn't sure he would ever get used to Castiel's utter disregard for one's personal space. A ridiculous little drabble I found myself writing at some obscene hour the the night.


Dean wasn't sure he would ever get used to Castiel's utter disregard for one's personal space.

The angel stared (for stared would be the appropriate term, Dean thought) up at him, his expression stern, and Dean felt himself automatically leaning backwards, though out of discomfort or a mild fear of the angel's stony glare he was not entirely sure.

Absently he wondered if his discomfort was entirely down to the invasion of his personal space or whether the being responsible for it had anything to do with it. His body, seemingly without his consent, seemed to add to the latter argument, his eyes briefly flitting from Cas' eyes down to his lips, his tongue coming out to wet his own.

The feeling of claustrophobia increased, and Cas, noticing his sudden panic, cocked his head to one side, eyes questioning. Dean gulped and flashed a half grin, trying to brush off his faux-pas as uneasiness at being in such close quarters with the man, praying to the absent God that Cas wouldn't realise what the instinctual action meant.

It was a blind hope.

Cas' look of confusion rearranged itself into one of solemn understanding, his chin ducking slightly in a way that said to Dean, "I remade you. I do not have to be in your head to know the way of your mind. There is no hiding from me."

To be quite frank, it scared the hell out of him.

Out loud, Cas said, "I make you feel that way, Dean?"

The angel's deep growl rumbled through a point just beneath his midriff, making it hard for him to outright lie. Instead he chose to go for the joking response.

"What can I say, it's been a while," he smirked, although it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I can't say you're usually my type."

Dean wasn't surprised when Cas' expression remained humourless. He couldn't recall it ever looking anything but. He couldn't even remember the angel ever smiling. A part of him, a nagging, possessive part, promised him that he would be the one to make Cas smile, and only he would see it. The thought sent another lurching sensation past his navel.

"Have you ever considered addressing this matter?" Castiel pressed on, gaze insistent.

"Er, no, it's not the kind of thing you casually bring up with the angel of the Lord, Cas." Dean replied, serious once more.

"You seemed perfectly content to 'bring it up' with Anna." Cas remarked, hands raised in finger quotations. His tone seemed almost..._jealous?_ Dean's eyebrows shot up momentarily.

"Well that was different!" He fumbled, "Anna had spent her life on earth as a human, she hardly acted like you and your angels buddies."

"So this is about my 'people skills'?"

"Cas, man, you gotta stop with the quotation marks."

Castiel glowered.

"I guess it just felt weird, you know, being attracted to one of the heavenly host. Aren't you all supposed to be immaculate and all that?"

"It is a complicated situation, I agree." He paused. "And your feelings of hesitation, they have nothing to do with the gender of the vessel I have chosen to occupy?"

Dean didn't meet his eye.

"Angels are not confined by your human genders, Dean. I am neither male nor female."

"Well now you're just making this creepy."

Castiel ignored his comment. "When you met my vessel, Jimmy Novak, were you attracted to him in the same way you are to me?"

Dean shook his head, clearing his throat slightly. "No, uh, no. He was different. He acted differently. It wasn't the same."

"So it is me rather than my vessel that you... harbour these desires towards?" The way Cas said it, his head cocked to one side, his voice matter-of-fact, as though he was a psychiatrist, analysing Dean.

"I guess," he shrugged nonchalantly, trying to make little of the matter.

"Did you ever consider that I may be open to these ideas you have been having?" Castiel's eyebrows were drawn together questioningly, and still so serious. Dean blinked away his shock at the inquiry.

"I- I can't say that I did."

"Well I am," stated Cas, taking a small step forwards into the negligible space between them. Dean swallowed thickly, his heart picking up a pace in his chest, hands growing clammy.

"Yeah, I got that much thanks," he said, trying to stop his voice cracking.

Castiel seemed to consider something briefly, head dipping to the side, before he crossed the final few inches and pressed his lips to Dean's.

Dean gasped into Cas' mouth, clutching the front of the angel's trenchcoat as he reeled backwards slightly, before leaning into the kiss. It was hot and heavy left Dean reeling and breathless as Castiel sucked on his lower lip, biting down lightly before sweeping his tongue through Dean's mouth in a way that made the taller man's knees threaten to buckle. Dean could barely keep up through the fog filling his head by the time Cas pulled away, eyes as clear and pensive as always. Dean felt mildly faint.

Cas took a step back, studying Dean's flushed complexion, deciding the way his blush caused his freckles to merge together was somewhat becoming.

"That was pleasant, we should try it again sometime," he stated simply, before turning on his heel and vanishing, the sound of wings breaking the silence only otherwise interrupted by the thudding of Dean's own heart. Demons Dean got. People are crazy. And don't even get him started on the angels.


End file.
